


Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

by NephilimEQ



Series: Christmas Medley [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Christmas gift, Gay Love, Humor, I wrote all these stories in a day and a half, Love Confessions, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, cute couple fighting, so many gay ships, they are all so totally married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 04:58:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13139556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NephilimEQ/pseuds/NephilimEQ
Summary: Daniel groaned as he watched meteorologist Katie Ryan show the massive cold front dropping down from Canada to where he and Jack were staying for the Christmas season: his cabin in Minnesota. Neither of them particularly cared for the holiday, but they celebrated it with each other for the excuse of spending some extra time together, as well as the extra alone time…but at seeing the forecast, his joy for the season dropped even further.





	Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

 

** Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow **

Daniel groaned as he watched meteorologist Katie Ryan show the massive cold front dropping down from Canada to where he and Jack were staying for the Christmas season: his cabin in Minnesota. Neither of them particularly cared for the holiday, but they celebrated it with each other for the excuse of spending some extra time together, as well as the extra _alone_ time…but at seeing the forecast, his joy for the season dropped even further.

The archaeologist _really_ didn’t like snow. Unlike Jack, who turned as giddy as a schoolboy the instant he saw the white stuff start to fall.

Daniel glanced out the window. Only a few clouds so far. He turned off the television. No. He did _not_ want snow.

Just as he was about to wander outside to see where Jack had gotten off to, the man in question slid open the back door and sauntered in, several freshly chopped logs in his arms.

“We’re gettin’ snow!” he exclaimed, and Daniel gave him a look.

“Why do you think that, Jack?” he carefully asked. The man paid no attention to television and rarely, if ever, read the paper, so how did he know they were getting snow?

The older man rolled his eyes as he dropped the logs next to the fireplace and replied, “Oh, you live here long enough to learn to recognize the signs. Trust me. We’re getting snow.” He stepped closer to him and put a firm hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly…but then Daniel heard a faint sound coming from Jack’s jacket pocket.

Before his boyfriend could pull away, Daniel’s hand shot up and snagged on the edge of his coat, and he reached a hand in and pulled out a portable radio. He turned up the volume to hear, through some static, _“…cold front dropping…own from Manitoba should bring…zard like conditions. Expect eight to ten…ches, or more considering inclement…eather due to--”_

“Oh,” said Daniel, deceivingly lightly, “Yes. Recognizing the signs. So glad your _experience_ is adept at keeping an eye on the weather, Jack.”

Jack didn’t even look embarrassed.

“I never said _how_ I knew. Besides, you live here long enough, you learn to keep a radio on you at all times,” he blithely added, and Daniel rolled his eyes. Typical Jack.

He moved back to the door and tossed over his shoulder, “How ‘bout you help me chop some firewood? My back and knees aren’t as young as they used to be, so unless you want me in less than working order tonight, you could give me a hand…”

Slightly annoyed, but also seeing the man’s point, the younger man shrugged into his jacket and pulled on his boots, and followed Jack out to the stump where he’d been chopping wood. The axe had been thrown on the ground at a haphazard angle, and that hinted at just how tired Jack must’ve been when he’d called it quits. Feeling a bit guilty, Daniel grabbed it and swung it over his shoulder. He picked up a piece of uncut wood and placed it carefully on the stump.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his boyfriend’s eyes light up as he swung the axe and sliced it neatly in two with one swing.

Ah. So _that’s_ how it was.

Ignoring the fact that his boyfriend was ogling him, he proceeded to chop wood long enough that his arms, shoulders, and back began to be uncomfortably sore. He swung the axe one last time, and then smiled when he heard Jack whine, “Oh, do you gotta stop, now? I mean, you’re on a roll,” he added, gesturing to the decent sized pile Daniel had made.

Daniel shook his head.

“Not happening, Jack,” he quickly retaliated. “We have more than enough firewood, and I am tired, sore, and hungry.”

“I can fix two out of three of those problems,” the older man drawled, walking with him back to the house. “I’ve got a lasagna ready to go in the oven and massage oil by the bed.”

Daniel gave him a look as they stepped inside and removed the jackets and shoes, and inquired, “Okay, now I’m worried. I’m not hearing sleep being covered in either of those two things, unless you were planning on letting me sleep during the massage. Are you?”

Jack leered.

“We’re not gonna be getting sleep anytime soon, if I can help it…”

Oh. _Oh._ Well, he was alright with that arrangement, he wasn’t going to complain.

They both made their way to the kitchen, and Jack leaned over and turned a dial on the stove, and then double checked that the lasagna was in there. Daniel admired the man’s asset for a moment, not in the least bit disappointed, knowing he would be seeing it bare later that night.

Dinner went by smoothly, both of them flirting and bantering with each other, each of them finishing off a single glass of wine. A little while later, they were on the couch in front of a roaring fire courtesy of Jack’s Eagle scout skills. Daniel sat in one corner of the couch with his legs sprawled across the cushions, his feet resting in Jack’s lap, who was absently running a hand over his lower leg, strong and calloused fingers rubbing against the bit of bare skin just above his ankles.

Jack had a brandy to the side, while Daniel had two fingers of whiskey in one of Jack’s crystal cut glasses. It was rather amusing, Daniel mused to himself, that Jack, mister rough and tumble, had such refined taste, and Daniel was the one who shot whiskey straight. He supposed it came from the fact that he’d spent most of his adult drinking life in the back pubs of towns on the outskirts of civilization, whereas Jack had spent time with officers in the military in more formal capacities.

He let out a small laugh at the unintentional irony, and Jack looked over at him.

“Care to let me in on the funny?”

“Oh, nothing really,” the archaeologist replied, looking at the fire. “Just…you and your _brandy_ and me and my Jack Daniel’s…it’s, you know…”

The older man smiled.

“Yeah, well, to each his own.”

He lifted his brandy glass and saluted in his direction, which Daniel returned, and they each took a sip of their respective drinks. Daniel glanced out the window and let out a soft groan when he saw the white falling onto the porch, reflecting against the automatic light outside.

“Oh, no,” he moaned, taking another shot of his whiskey. “Oh, dear god, no…”

At hearing his complaint, Jack turned and craned his neck…and then grinned like an idiot at seeing the snow falling and quickly sticking to every available surface.

“Wouldja look at that,” he said with a broad grin. “It’s snowing.”

Daniel dropped his legs from his boyfriend’s lap and glared at him and warned, “Jack, if you _dare_ try to drag me out into that at _this_ time of night, I will leave you and never look back.” Jack practically pouted (though he would never call it that), and replied, “Oh, c’mon, Daniel. Live a little!”

“I’ve lived more than once, thank you very much,” he retorted, “And I’m fine with the life I have.” He stood up from the couch and downed the rest of his whiskey, not even feeling the burn as it slid down his throat. He had spent years having to keep up with Middle Eastern sikhs and Turkish bwanas. Not only did they know their coffee, they knew their alcohol, as well, so he had developed an exceedingly high tolerance for it. He looked down at Jack, who had taken another sip of his brandy, and smiled.

They were both quiet for a moment, and then Jack softly said, “You don’t know what you’re missing out on…”

Daniel rolled his eyes a little.

“I think I can live without it, Jack.”

He put his empty glass on the end table and then took off his glasses and rubbed them clean with the hem of his shirt. He put them back on and looked down at his boyfriend, who was gazing longingly out the window once more, the brandy in his hand forgotten, and he let out a sigh.

“Care to go to bed?”

At that, Jack’s eyes snapped up to his and he grinned. Yep. He’d sufficiently distracted him from the snow with five little words. Without even bothering to clean up, he let Daniel lead him up to the bedroom.

\--

Daniel blearily opened his eyes Christmas morning, trying to ignore the sunlight shining directly into them, and turned just enough to see Jack already fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging on his snow boots with a smile plastered to his face.

“Jack? What are you doing…?”

The older man laced up his left boot and answered, “There is at _least_ fourteen inches of snow on the ground out there, Daniel, and if you’re not going to enjoy it, then I sure as hell am going to. Not giving it up for you, no matter what you say, babe.” He jumped to his feet, and then leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“See you for presents in about an hour. Sleep in, ‘kay?”

And with that, he bolted out the door and down to the first floor, his footsteps loud and thundering on the wooden stairs.

The younger man finally woke up a bit more, groped for his glasses on the nightstand and put them on with clumsy fingers. Jack was…going outside. Okay, that much he understood. He was going outside because there was snow on the ground. Yeah. He understood that part, too. But what had that last part meant? _If you’re not going to enjoy it, then I sure as hell am going to…_ And that was when it hit him: Jack thought that because he hated snow, he couldn’t share his love of it with him.

Oh, no. It was Christmas and his boyfriend was off enjoying something on his own and leaving Daniel alone because he didn’t want to bother him with it…dammit. That _wasn’t_ what he’d been trying to do.

Wrestling with his conscience, and his pants, he managed to get dressed. He had to dig through the closet to find boots that would fit him. He ended up borrowing a worn-out pair that looked like they were rejects from the eighties: gray with neon green piping and neon blue laces. Tacky, but perfectly usable.

He made it to the back door and stumbled onto the porch (only halfway into his jacket, one arm still free), forcing the door closed behind him...and then froze at the sight in front of him.

Jack was standing knee deep in the snow, his hat nowhere to be seen, and his head was lifted to the sky as it continued to snow, even in the glaringly bright morning sun. His eyes were half-closed, as if he was in some sort of spiritual trance, and Daniel just about lost his breath at the sight of it.

Even as he internally cursed at the cold wetness seeping through his pants and gloves, he outwardly marveled at how the light reflected off of the bits of melted snow in Jack’s hair, and at how the years seemed to shed off him as he stood there in the snowfall. The younger man could suddenly see every reason why he’d fallen in love with the man right in front of him; no matter what it was, he had never seemed to lose his childish sense of fun and wonder. Though it sometimes came across as immaturity, it was the most wonderful thing about him.

He stared for a long time, getting wetter and colder, but not caring…until he suddenly felt something icy cold hit him in the neck and dribble under his coat to soak the shirt underneath.

“Hey, quit staring!”

Daniel shivered and hissed, “Seriously, Jack? What are you, eight years old?”

“Ten, actually,” Jack corrected him, already packing another snowball. “My aim was much improved by then, and it was also when I realized I liked boys as much as girls. Now,” he asked, tossing the ball in the air and catching it, “Are we gonna do this, or what?”

Daniel gave him a manic grin and then said, “If I do this, you owe me big time. And I mean _big_ time.”

Jack gave him a look as he palmed the snowball, yet again, and sounding intrigued, asked, “Like what?”

Daniel smiled.

“How about a week in Egypt?” Jack started to protest, but Daniel shot back as he started to make his own weapon, “Hey, fair is fair. One week. That’s all I’m asking.” He ducked as the snowball was thrown in his direction, and let out an inward sigh of relief at having dodged it. “C’mon, Jack! Be an adult about this!” he added, aiming for Jack’s neck in retaliation to the one thrown earlier.

He inwardly crowed as he hit his mark. Yes!

“Daniel!” Jack did the same dance the archaeologist had done only moments before, and then said, “Fine! Fine. One week in Egypt. Now, can we have some fun?”

Daniel smiled.

Yes. They could have some fun.

He hated the snow, still did, but he could get used it, he thought to himself as he suddenly found themselves in the snow with his thighs on top of Jack’s, their breath brushing up against each other’s lips, cold cheeks brushing against each other.

He could get used to it.

 

 


End file.
